Beka
by Eryn
Summary: Beka's thoughts on Harper


DISCLAIMER: Gene Roddenberry's Andromeda belongs to Tribune. I am just borrowing the characters to play with for a while!

Views to: eryn.grant@ntlworld.com

NOTES: A companion piece to "Harper", "Andromeda", "Dylan" and "Tyr". Enjoy.

  
  
  
  
**Beka**

**by Eryn Grant**

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**  


"Hey Beka," Dylan panted as he rounded a corner. "Wait up."

Beka turned as Dylan jogged towards her. "Morning Dylan," she said smiling although Dylan thought he could sense a hint of suppressed anger. "And what can I do for you?" 

Dylan smiled back before asking cautiously. "Have you seen Harper this morning?" he enquired easily matching Beka's purposeful step. 

"No. But I'm just on my way to see the little jerk," Beka spat angrily. "He was supposed to repair the Maru's forward thrusters," she growled in the back of her throat. "Yesterday," she snapped with an angry wave of a hand. "But as usual he has found something else to play with. Which leaves me without forward thrusters." Beka turned smiling sweetly at Dylan. "And I think he's avoiding me. But when I get hold of him..... well just don't be anywhere nearby." 

"Understood," Dylan chuckled. They walked side by side in silence for a few minutes, Dylan waiting patiently, knowing that Beka would calm down enough to be curious - he just had to be patient. He smiled to himself, almost feeling her anger as it radiated through her body. 

"Why do you ask?" Beka asked suddenly curious. Dylan nearly laughed, but managed to adopt a serious face. Beka glanced sideways with a long suffering sigh. "What's he done now?" 

"Nothing," Dylan raised his eyes, amused. "Well that I know of." He shook his head dismissing thoughts of Harper and his infamous projects and obsessive tinkering with the Andromeda's systems. "I was just concerned about him. That's all." 

"Why?" Beka snorted, her tone disbelieving. "Is there something wrong with the Andromeda that you want Harper to repair? Well you'll just have to wait in line. The Maru's thrusters are first," she snapped, angry again. 

"Actually," Dylan replied smoothly. "Thanks to Harper, the Andromeda is performing well above High Guard standards and operating protocols." He pulled a face at Beka, irritated that she thought he wouldn't care about Harper's well being. Beka blushed slightly, and Dylan couldn't help feeling a little bit pleased at her embarrassment. "But Rommie tells me that he hasn't been back to his quarters for a couple of days, and she can't remember seeing him in the Mess Hall either," he finished. "And I thought you might know what's going on with him," Dylan shrugged his shoulders. 

Beka narrowed her eyes at Dylan, not being able to miss the hint of concern in the tone of his voice. "Oh you know Harper," Beka waved a hand dismissively in the air. "He's probably just got involved in one of his crazy ass projects. You know how he gets." 

"Mmmm. May be," Dylan mused. "All the same I don't want him getting sick. Or working himself too hard. And I thought.... well, I thought...." 

"That I could talk to him," Beka interrupted stopping abruptly as she turned to face Dylan her hands on her hips. 

"Well yes," Dylan couldn't help smirking slightly. "I would talk to him myself as Captain, but I know how you all hate authority figures, rules and regulations," he smirked again. "So I thought you could handle the little talk. As my second in command." 

Beka scowled at him. "But I want to kill him," she protested as Dylan started to, once more, jog along the corridor. 

"Later," Dylan laughed as he turned to face Beka jogging backwards. "Tell him to get some rest and eat something," he disappeared around the corner. "And tell him that's an order," Dylan's voice carried along the corridor. 

"Tell him it's an order," Beka mimicked as she stomped towards the machine shop to find Harper. 

Beka was still mumbling angrily to herself as she entered Harper's favourite machine shop. "Harper," she yelled. "You here?" She stomped around the room absently picking up pieces of machinery and various strange looking metalwork, studying each piece before dropping it back onto one of the cluttered work benches. "Harper," she yelled again. 

"You yelled," Harper appeared from the small adjoining store-room. Beka spun around with a smile, which quickly turned to a frown as she looked Harper up and down. He looked tired, his skin was even paler than usual, and Beka couldn't help notice the fine sheen of sweat on his face and the tremor in his body as he tried to walk casually towards the work bench. "What's up boss?" he smiled - it didn't quite reach his pale eyes, and Beka could see that he was clearly trying to mask the obvious pain he was in. 

"Don't you boss me," Beka snapped, both angry and concerned. "What's wrong? Are you sick?" she took a step towards Harper. "And don't you dare lie to me, Seamus Harper." 

"Nothing. No. And I won't," Harper answered with a small grin backing away from Beka's reach. "Just kinda busy with all this stuff," he waved a hand at the clutter on the work benches. "No peace for a genius," he picked up a laser screw driver waggling it at Beka. 

Beka narrowed her eyes at Harper, suddenly noticing that he hadn't moved his right arm keeping it tight and rigid across his body. "What's wrong with your arm?" she asked moving quickly around the bench making a grab for Harper. 

"Nothing boss," Harper lied dodging out of her way. "Just whacked it when I ... well when I... It's nothing. Just a couple of bruises," he tried to smile again, but it was more like a grimace. "Honest." 

Beka could see that his trembling was getting worse. "Harper," she threatened. Concerned about him and determined to drag him to the medical deck for a check up, she made a more determined grab for him. "When you what? And don't tell me nothing." 

In pain, Harper's reactions had slowed and he cried out in agony, tears springing to his eyes as Beka accidentally jolted his right arm with her hand as she grasped him firmly by the shoulder. "Fell outta the conduit," he whispered as his legs gave out and he started to slip towards the floor. 

Beka managed to support him, carefully lowering him to the floor. "Nothing huh?" she murmured in exasperation. "When we get you fixed up, you and me are going to have a serious little talk Seamus Zelazny Harper," she stroked at his dampened hair. 

"I can hardly wait," Harper coughed. His eyes closed and his body went limp as he finally lost consciousness. 

"What's the little professor done now?" a familiar voice from the door asked. 

Beka turned to see Tyr lolling against the door frame, his arms folded across his chest. "Don't just stand there. Like a.... like a Nietzschean lump," she snapped. "Help me. I need to get Harper to the medical deck." 

Tyr sighed as he pushed himself off the door frame, moving into the machine shop. "Again," he raised his eyes. "Perhaps we ought to suggest to Dylan that we move the boy's machine shop to the medical deck." 

"Tyr," Beka yelled. "Are you helping or just making smart ass suggestions?" 

Tyr pulled a face. "The things I do," he mumbled as he leaned over Harper's unconscious form. "For the people on this ship." 

"Don't...," Beka started to protest as Tyr bent to lift Harper from the floor. Tyr raised his eye brows questioningly as he carefully manoeuvred Harper's injured arm into a comfortable position before settling him as gently as possible into his arms. Harper stirred slightly moaning in pain at the movements. 

"Don't what?" Tyr asked curious, glancing towards Beka. 

Beka flushed slightly embarrassed. "I thought you were going to sling him over your shoulder," she admitted biting at her bottom lip. "Like you usually do." 

"And do more damage to what is obviously a badly broken arm?" Tyr replied quietly. "And if I am not mistaken, some cracked ribs." 

Hands on hips, Beka stared down at her boots as she distractedly kicked at the floor. "Sorry," she murmured reluctantly. 

Harper moaned again in pain. Tyr loosened his grip slightly. He scowled at Beka before sighing heavily. "Let's get your little brother to the medical deck," Tyr started out of the machine shop, Harper carefully cradled in his arms.

***************

Tyr had been right - Harper had broken his right arm in two places and cracked three ribs in his fall. Harper had remained unconscious as Trance repaired his cracked ribs, yellowish bruises being the only evidence left on his pale skin. Beka had then argued and finally persuaded Trance to treat the arm in the old fashioned way - with a heavy plaster cast. 

Beka smirked to herself knowing that Harper would be mad with her, but it was the only way she could think of to get him to rest for a few days - she would let Trance fuse the bones together with one of her shiny medical instruments at the end of the week. 

Beka stared down at Harper. Trance had given him some pain killers and a mild sedative - he was now sleeping peacefully, his right arm encased in a bulky cast balanced on a pillow for support. She absently ran her hand through his blonde spike soothingly as she looked around the medical deck. Beka couldn't help shivering slightly - she always thought that the place was too impersonal, too stark, white and clinical, completely devoid of any comforts. No wonder Harper didn't like it here. 

The pillows were uncomfortable and there were never any blankets. Beka had always wondered why was there never any blankets on the medical deck? So while Trance had been setting Harper's arm into the cast, she had gone to the Maru to retrieve proper soft pillows and a blanket from the crew quarters, which she had tucked around Harper's sleeping form. 

Beka smoothed the blanket gently as her other hand stroked at a stray strand of damp hair. Harper stirred at the touch mumbling her name. "Ssshhh," she whispered continuing to stroke at his hair. "Yes it's me, Beka. Go back to sleep Seamus." Harper sighed settling back into a peaceful slumber. 

"Works every time," Beka smiled to herself. She perched on the bed next to Harper's letting her mind wander as she watched over him. Little brother. Tyr had called Harper her little brother. Beka mulled over the phrase, deciding that she probably had come to consider Harper as her little brother - he had always been more like a brother than her real brother, Rafe. 

Beka thought back to the time they had first met, eight years ago. Grubby and beaten so badly that his skinny body was black and blue all over, Harper had been half-starved, frightened and wary of everyone who tried to get near or touch him. Even back then, Harper had been like a little brother to her - he had been someone to care for, someone to protect, someone to fill the gap that the death of her father had left. 

It had taken a lot of time and patience - something she wasn't renowned for - to get through all his defences, to get him to trust her. But eventually she had done it - Harper had rewarded her patience with a precious gift, his trust. 

It was as though she had turned the lights on, and Beka has watched fascinated as the terror and the ever present haunted look in Harper's pale eyes gradually disappeared to be replaced with a twinkle, his wicked sense of humour shining outwards warming her. He made her laugh telling her silly jokes and outrageous stories as they worked side by side repairing and fixing the Maru. His self-worth took a bit longer, but slowly he relaxed and became confident in his abilities as a engineer, annoyingly so at times and usually on a daily basis - Beka smiled to herself, not wanting it any other way. 

Harper was still a little bit of a mystery to her, not wanting to talk about his past life, dodging expertly any questions she asked him. She had given up in the end, satisfied to be his friend, his boss, his big sister. 

She couldn't help being sad though - knowing that everything she had learned about Harper had been through his terrifying nightmares - nightmares that visited him almost every night during the first year they had been together. Awoken by his frightened cries, she had simply pulled him into her arms trying to calm him, holding him tightly, rocking him back and forth whispering soothing words into his hair, until he eventually slipped back into sleep. Harper always had clung to her - as though his life depended on it - his hands tangled in her shirt trapped in his nightmare calling out for his dead family, reliving the terrors of his childhood as his tears wet her shoulder. 

They never spoke of the nightmares, but Beka noticed that sometimes Harper would hug her for no reason, or sling his arm around her shoulder. She, in turn, would punch his arm affectionately or tease him about his latest bright shirt. It was easy, comfortable - like a real brother and sister. It suited them both, and filled a want and need for each of them. 

Swinging her legs absently from side to side, Beka stared at Harper for a while watching as his chest rose and fell, comforted by his peaceful slumber. She jumped off the bed moving to his side. She fiddled with the blanket again to make sure that Harper was well covered and warm. Leaning down, she lightly kissed his forehead. Harper smiled slightly at the touch. "Sleep well, little brother," she whispered. "But we are still going to have that little talk." 

Beka jumped back onto the opposite bed to continue watching over her "little brother" while he slept. 

THE END

  
  
  
  



End file.
